


To Hell and Back with You

by JanusScientes



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types
Genre: Ajax does actually feel, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, First chapter is the back story, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Idk if he has a background story, OC has Avatar powers, OC is mutant, WIP, all in one place, insert smut here, not the blue one, the one with the arrow tattoos and the huge fluffy sky-bison
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 21:27:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11586507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JanusScientes/pseuds/JanusScientes
Summary: Basically how I see the story of a perfect villain. Of course with a treat at the end ;)





	To Hell and Back with You

Tension was rising high in the air. Gunshots, screams and death screeched their way through the thick atmosphere of the joint Ajax chose as a meeting spot.  
I know I agreed to stay still and not interfere as it was something personal but I never said I will stop myself from helping if things went wrong. And they sure as hell have taken that path to Hellvile.  
That Deadpool guy, whoever he is, was a full-on stoner-head psychopath and I understand his reasoning, more like if I were in his shoes I'd done worse, but he is wrong if he thinks he can take Ajax away from me. He was all that I've ever had.  
You see, we grew up together in a huge white orphanage in London the name of which I don't remember. We met when he was at the age of 7 and I - of 5. Well, had you have asked me then I would have made myself to be six and a half and mostly anyone would either believe me or wouldn't care enough to argue. But he was different, and by discovering my little white lie on the first day he intrigued me deeply and so I did the only thing a five year old with separation issues could do - I clung to him. And what's even better is that he didn't seem to mind.  
I was a quiet enough kid, read a lot, studied everything I found to be interesting and even though I wasn't too social I still needed company as I did so. Still needed someone like me to share the huge old armchair in the library after curfew with. Still needed someone intelligent to share my studies with. Needed a shoulder to lay my head on when shit got too real.  
We stayed together for as long as we could: over meals, during and after classes, after curfew, during detention, basically we were always together and that went on all the way to highschool. No, nobody seemed interested in adopting us so we had to stick with it. I won't pretend like it didn't hurt the both of us to watch happy families outside the window go about their happy lives with no care in the world about what happened behind those cold white walls. But I am not going to be a selfish brat and complain about my life because I knew from reading about the world away from my window that things could be far worse. I still had a roof above my head, a solid meal three times a day, the chance to become an actual person not just a taxpayer, school. I had Ajax.  
Yes, I am very well aware that it's not his real name. Francis adopted it (pun not intended) at around forth grade. He was reading some book about Greek mythology and reached a chapter about Ajax the Great, the hero of ancient Iliad, who was stronger than all of Greece. He told me he wanted to be like that one day, a respected, loved, strong man who knew what is right. A hero. So I turned to calling him that, and as days turned to weeks, months and years it just stuck to him.  
In highschool we had been even more inseparable than we had been in the orphanage. I had to pass some very pointless exams to prove I was far more intelligent that those snotty brats my age so I could go and be a freshman with my best friend. They seemed so easy that you could do them without even thinking yet apparently the system didn't agree with that. Anyway...  
Here kids tended to have something against us being orphans so to show us our place they had us being bullied and humiliated every day. We cared little about those pitiful box-brained rats, though, after all one day they will be working at a grocery shop while me and Ajax will be responsible for great things.  
During those years Ajax developed his love for science. He joined every class and club he could connect to it and me being a sucker for the expression of satisfaction and wonder on his face did the same just so I could be there and watch him grow. And we still had all the same classes so no one was surprised when the both of us showed up to the science club meeting the first day of junior year.  
The summer of senior year we both decided it was high time for us to find a job, after all after he turned 18 the orphanage will have to cut him off and let him walk his road alone but I refused to leave him alone. So we did this: we went to every shop, store, cafe, bar and basically every place we thought of to ask for vacancies. We only had one condition, though- they had to take the two of us. We did this almost every day from June to September until finally we found a nice old man, Mr. Hodge, with a beautiful vintage book shop who could use a spare pair of hands.  
We raised enough money for us to rent a small but decent flat for Ajax to use when he turned 18. Yes, money was tight and I often had to cut half my rations of lunch and dinner to take them to him. But we also could have never done without Mr.Hodge, who had never refused either of us a warm cup of tea, a warm meal, or a talk over fish and chips. An old-fashioned and warmhearted old fella like him would have never left two children in the big cold city.  
During the last two months of school something strange happened: a small girl, with shiny black hair and dark eyes that contrasted with her skin came to me to ask about Ajax.  
He is your friend right? Does he have a girlfriend? Or maybe he is gay? Are you two...?  
God, she looked so nervous to be asking me these things that she even slurred some of the words unintentionally, but one thing was clear and it was that this girl was head over heels for my best friend. Which made me think.  
Every once in a while I would ask my favorite worker in the orphanage to cover me while I went to have a sleepover with Ajax. She was so kind and sweet that she couldn't deny either of us anything. She had seen us grow together and was one of the few who demanded that Ajax stayed and earn his stay as a fix-it boy just until I could leave so that we wouldn't have to be separated. Guess how that turned out.  
The night after this girl talked to me I went for a visit. The whole day I had been thinking about him, not that it was unusual, but he came to me in a different way. It wasn't anticipation for our next meeting in school the next day, it was these things that the girl attacked my brain with. The way he smiles, laughs, his face when he sleeps, the way his huge hands and arms feel around me after a particularly tough day. And let me tell you these weren't some lanky arms we are talking about.  
Seems to me that working in a book shop cannot be too much of a strain. Then again, fixing boilers, changhing lightbulbs, nailing old floorboards and carrying enormous boxes of books from place A to place B was quite a strain, and it did wonders with his body. Yes, he was still lean, but he was as far from weak as they come.  
And since he was my best friend and we never kept anything from one another I told him everything. He was the one I could allow myself to be as blunt as I am with and not expect to be judged. So I told him. I told him how I find the way his eyes glow bright when he did something right in science class beautiful, how I could never have lived so far without him, that I loved his hands and arms and that his neck and thighs were my weakness. And when he asked where this came from so suddenly, I told him about the girl. I made him smile wider than I had ever seen him smile that night. "You're the only girl in my life." he said. I told him that one day he will meet a girl far prettier than me, which in my personal opinion wasn't that difficult as I am no beauty queen, and he said that he probably will but:  
"She can never be you."  
He wanted to go to college yet he never got the chance. We could barely get enough to keep the flat and we still had a few close calls so that was out of the question.  
The day that I turned 18 he came back home bloody and bruised and when I asked what had happened Ajax took something from behind his back, a piece of paper wrapped around something small. He gave a small smile, probably afraid not to hurt the broken skin on his lip, took my hands in his and placed the item in my palms. I unwrapped it unsurely and saw a necklace with a small pendant in it. Very vintage, very shiny and just very me. I didn't know if I could smile at the time, I was too shocked for that, instead I jumped towards him and squeezed his neck and shoulders in a hug.  
"Open it."  
Below the small lid of the pendant there was a, no, not a picture, neither of us had any, note written in Ajax's neat and professional handwriting. "For the only light in my life"- Ajax. When I turned it over I saw an engraving in the iron "To Hell and back with you." - XW  
"Who's that?" I asked curiously.  
"That's Xavier Willis, the man I bought it from. He owns a small antique shop. It was his wife's." he explained helpfully.  
"And where did you get the money?"  
"I, uh," he sighed, "I asked a man to get me into a fight today, I won and got some of the money from the bets."  
My stomach dropped. A street fight? How could anyone in their right mind do that? And he did it for me...  
No words were exchanged as we embraced each other as if we'll never meet again. He did it for me.  
I later explained that if he was going to be selling his life like this just to buy me a birthday gift I'd rather never have a birthday again. And surprisingly he got it through his thick head and agreed with me.  
That had been just the beginning of his downfall.  
He had never stopped perfecting his own science and he went to the extreme to fight almost twice a week to pay his college tuitions. Eventually he turned from the one carrying the bruises to the one who made them. He's asked me a thousand times to come and watch him fight and every time I told him that even though I respect the way he made his money it never meant that I agred with it. I didn't want to see him neither on the ground bleeding to death, nor causing the same to another.  
Meanwhile, I developed my ambition to become a tattoo artist. I was in love with art, but my favorite aspect of it was drawing Ajax when he wasn't expecting it. Sketching him while he was studying for an exam or doing the dishes. And let me tell you something, that back covered by nothing but a tanktop, showing off those perfect pale muscled shoulders and neck was quite the sight.  
He caught me in the act, asked why would I waste my time to draw him when there were so many things that were much more appropriate for the ocasion.  
"They might be but they will never be you." I stated looking up from my work to meet his eyes. I didnt expect him to remember but when he smiled and showed off his perfect white teeth I knew he did.  
Ajax's ambition only grew hotter as the days passed, soon he was ready to go to whatever extremes to reach what he wanted.  
Meanwhile, he never stopped asking to test me and maybe two years after his first fight I actually allowed it. Allowed him to test my mutations, their boundaries, their variations. The lab he worked at as an intern closed maybe two hours after his official work hours were over, which was long enough for him to do a proper job on his little project. He tested the super speed, healing factor and elemental powers on different subjects, watched how they react. At first I didn't mind but when people at the lab started finding dead guinea pigs, things got a little messy. Obviously he was fired.  
Somehow this information leaked all through the labs in the city and reached the ears of an American mob head. One day just when I was coming back from work I saw the door was left slightly ajar. And there was this man wearing a suit and shiny Italian shoes with two muscle-to-the-bones skyscraper-like men who looked tense and alert, as if always ready to attack. And Ajax standing just as tense right before them, eyes blown with fear. Then the short man with the Italian shoes asked if I was Ajax girlfriend, asked if he would like to see me bleed.  
"Leave her out of this!" he said, "I'll do anything, just let her be!"  
Then the man handed Ajax a card with his number on it and bid him goodnight. I still remember stepping swiftly out if the way just before one of those brainless goons was about to step over me.  
So by the end of the month Ajax started working for that mobster, creating a new generation of mutated gangmemebers just for him. Apparently, though, an year later there had been a higher bid and Ajax was forced to move back to the kingdom to work for another small man with big ambitions.  
Even though it was wrong I was happy for him. Yes, maybe he was going against the laws of nature and maybe he was doing something illegal, but he was living his dream to work in the sake of science, to cure Cancer, STDs, even bring a corpse back from the other side. And he did, for which I'm proud of him. And I swore to be with him all the way till the end. Whether he rises or falls I will be there waiting at the end of the day to keep him safe in my arms. After all, I'm a mutant.  
He made enough money to get a new appartament for the both of us. A fine combination of modern design and tradition, the huge maisonette was everything we have ever wanted. And of course, Ajax made sure to have enough to pay my art lessons and not even a year later I had already been a sertified tattooist. I worked in a studio near the apartment.  
Everything seemed perfect.  
Yet as the days passed he came home with more and more frustration built upon him. His temper shortened, his voice rose, his eyes darkened. I kept asking the same questions over and over again.  
"What's wrong? You know you can tell me."  
But he never did. I guessed it was the pressure the job built upon his beautiful shoulders, the stress, the deadlines. He was progressively becoming colder and colder, he seemed to steel himself, to grow away from me.  
Then one day I just couldn't go on like this anymore. I needed my best friend and I saw that he needed me too.  
"Tell me what to do!" I screamed.  
"What do you mean?" he asked quietly.  
"Tell me what to do to help you."  
He shared with me all of his observations, his discoveries, his theories. The sample of my blood that he took not too long before I had shown him the specifics of my mutation. It had apparently shown him why I never bled, why my wounds, cuts, bruises disappeared minutes after appearing.  
He called it 'regeneration factor' for a reason unknown to me. He told me I was immortal. His most recent theory was that when this so called 'growth period' ended and it was time for me to start to age towards the thirties this factor will activate itself and I will be stuck at twenty-something.  
"Do you know what that means?" as a reply I just shook my head, waiting for his next words.  
It meant that if he played his cards right he could cure death itself.  
"It's unnatural, Jax. Are you sure about this?" I asked.  
"So? If you could do it why not someone else?"  
"Jax, I'm unnatural to begin with and people have always fought for normality."  
"People have fought for an eternal youth too. Can't you see the possibilities it gives us?!"  
"Like what?"  
"We could live together forever!" It was those words that got under my skin. For a while I actually thought they meant something, foolish I know.  
The rest, perhaps, you've heard of. Ajax's empire, the labs, the experiments. Obviously that recessive gene Ajax took from my DNA has different effect on the different subjects. But that just sounds cold and cruel, those "subjects" were people, and Ajax was ruining their lives.  
Sure, there were those who came out of free will, but all others were just poor helpless souls that had been lied to for somebody's cause.  
My one and only regret when it comes to experience is that I just stood and watched, unable to do anything. I was frozen in the middle of a crossroad - on one side was my clear conscience, content that I had helped these people, on the other - my best friend: the one I'd known and been with "to Hell and back with".

**Author's Note:**

> Smut is in the second chapter 


End file.
